


Angel's Wings

by ElderWhizzerBrown



Series: Angel’s Wings Verse [1]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And then they kiss, But we all knew it was inevitable, Friends to Lovers, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Just be safe ma dudes, M/M, Melchior and Moritz are great friends, Slow Burn, Suicide trigger warning, au where Moritz's suicide attempt fails, spoiler alert I guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 17:11:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderWhizzerBrown/pseuds/ElderWhizzerBrown
Summary: “I was almost an angel,” Moritz whispers, but they can hear. “I was going to be an angel and tell them stories about playing pirates in the snow and drinking hot chocolate. I would have had wings. I would have been happy.”Moritz’s suicide attempt and all the events that followed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, I'm adding this note like a week after posting this chapter, so, sorry if you don't see it.
> 
> Basically, the plot of Spring Awakening is going to happen, starting with Don't Do Sadness, but nobody gonna die. 
> 
> Because a) I don't have the heart to kill Moritz off, plus the premise is he survives. I had to change the method of his suicide attempt to make it more likely he wouldn't die. And b) It's way less likely Wendla would die in an abortion nowadays.

He’s chosen the woods behind the school. Moritz doesn’t have a home anymore, where one would imagine such things should be done. All he really has is a backpack with some clothes, a razor, and some money, after running away. He doesn’t even attend the school anymore. All his ties have been cut, all his friends forgetting him. 

So it’s time for Moritz to say goodbye. 

Just as he sits in a pile of snow beneath a tree and starts digging his razor out from his backpack, there’s a rustle from the trees and he shoves it back in, jumping to his feet, heart pounding at almost being caught.

“Moritz Stiefel?” A voice asks, and he sees Ilse carrying two bags of groceries. Ilse. One of the friends who’ll forget him, soon enough. One of the friends who’s already transferred to another school after her father’s abuse was discovered and she moved in with her mother. She doesn’t even know of his expulsion, probably. 

“Ilse?” he responds, it seeming like the only thing to say. “You scared me.”

“What are you doing here? Were you looking for something?” she asks him. School is still in session. She probably assumes he’s skipping. 

Moritz forces a laugh. It comes out sounding hollow and false. God, when was the last time he actually laughed? “Why did you scare me? I’m jumpy today, I guess.”

“What are you looking for?”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “If only I knew.”

“Are you alright?” He isn’t properly dressed for winter at all, wearing nothing but a thin jacket over his clothes. She watches him with pity. Pity. As if she understands any of it. “Why don’t you have a coat? You’ll freeze out here. You should come with me to get some hot chocolate. My mom’s making some.” Ilse tilts her head, staring into the distance. “Like we used to.”

An image shows up uninvited in his head of the two of them, with Melchior and Wendla too, running inside Ilse’s kitchen after getting soaked in the snow. Moritz had been happy then. 

What will Melchior think when they find his body? Will he remember the days of playing as pirates in the snow or the weeks of struggle in classes? Will Wendla remember him as her carefree childhood friend or the teenager who couldn’t seem to ever be happy anymore?

Will Ilse blame herself after this conversation is over and he returns to his date with the razor?

It doesn’t matter anymore. He has nothing left at all, nothing but childhood memories and a backpack. “No, I’ll be fine. I was just headed home. My father called to check me out.” The lie slips easily off his tongue and he almost finds himself believing it. If only.

Ilse bites her lip and looks at him again. She wants to say more, clearly. “Well, if you ever…” A pause. “Just for a little bit? Text your dad, tell him.”

“I can’t.” And he can’t. Not for the reasons he gives, but Moritz can’t, either way. “I have a ton of homework. And a big test coming up. Father and I were going to study.” 

Another image, of a father (not his, never his) bent of his son’s textbook, helping, not yelling when he gets it wrong. Not angry when he falls behind or drops out, but forgiving. 

This image, surely, comes from fairytales. Fathers don’t work that way. Just look at his, driving him to this, or Martha’s and Ilse’s, abusing them for years. 

Ilse sighs, searching in his face. “Walk me, at least. Help with the groceries.”

“I wish I could,” Moritz whispers it. Truly, he wishes he could pick himself back up. Become a success story, an it-got-better story. But he can’t. 

Will he have anything to tell the other angels? How he was a little boy who played pirates, how the little boy got older and everything got harder? 

He almost laughs in joy at the thought. He’ll be an angel. Angels don’t judge other angels, just spend all their time on their picturesque lives.

Ilse sighs again and pats his arm awkwardly. “Goodbye, Moritz. I’ll see you again, right?”

As an angel, maybe. “Right.” Moritz watches her leave, twisting around to watch him every few steps. Once he thinks she’s far enough that she won’t hear anything - oh, god, will it hurt so badly he’ll cry out? Will he watch the blood flow from his wrists with regret, or will he be at peace? 

He breathes deeply to calm himself and pulls out the razor. 

***

Something is screaming at Ilse to turn back. Something had seemed so suspicious about Moritz, something had seemed so sad, the way he hasn’t moved from where she’d found him concerning. 

Ilse sets down her bags, set on going back just to check, claiming to have dropped something. She’s about halfway when she hears a loud gasp and starts running, dread settling into her stomach. 

And there she finds Moritz, with an almost peaceful looking expression, passed out from blood loss on a pillow of snow, his wrists still flowing. Shock fills her system, but more then that is the impulse to _act._

Ilse fumbles her phone from her pocket, glad they’re close to a road. “911, what is your emergency?” a woman’s voice answers calmly. It seems odd that she can be so calm when Ilse’s friend is bleeding out, but there’s not time to reflect on that now. Ilse’s voice is numb when she replies.

“My friend just slit his wrists.”


	2. Chapter 2

Melchior’s world shifts in his fifth-hour Biology class. He doesn’t know it when he enters, but he exits a different person.

He walks in, tucks his backpack under the chair, and sits down. “Hey, Gabor,” a voice calls as Melchior feels a poke to the back of his head. 

Mentally cursing whoever had thought it funny to put this boy behind him, he scowls and swats at the finger. “Hands to yourself, Rilow.”

Hanschen draws his hand back. Melchior doesn’t even need to look to see the smirk that he’s sure is on the other boy’s face. “Didja see the board?”

Melchior looks up. _Pop quiz today! :)_. Oh. That. “What about it?” He says, spinning around to glare at Hans. “I would have seen for myself.”

But now Hanschen holds Melchior’s phone in the air. “Georg said he saw you and Wendla Bergman together the other night.”

“Give that back!” He reaches for the phone, but Hanschen just holds it higher. 

“So you’re not denying that you two are fucking?” Hanschen lowers his voice, leaning in. “Really, Gab-”

The phone vibrates, cutting Hanschen off. They both turn their attention to it and an evil grin spreads across Hans’ face. “Aw, a text from your girlfriend right now.” He looks at the text, Melchior unable to do more than glare.

“That’s private!” Melchior insists but makes no move to stop him, knowing it’s pointless.

The blood suddenly drains from Hanschen’s face and he hands it back as if it shocked him. “Sorry, Gabor, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Melchior stands up and walks away as soon as the phone is in his hands again, looking at whatever text had upset Hanschen so much. 

_Queen Ilse of Arendelle: moritz is in the hospital. you need to get down here_

And with that, his whole world changes. 

It’s like looking up at the sky and expecting the stars to appear slowly, but then they all were there at once, a shock and disconnect from normal life, too much information.

_Melchior: Wht hppnd???? Is he ok???_

_Queen Ilse of Arendelle: he tried to kill himself. he’s fine now_

Melchior sucks in a breath. Moritz. His best friend. He could have just been gone. 

Like that.

There one second, gone the next.

And Melchior has been so caught up with thinking about his own problems, thinking about Wendla, that he’s missed all the signs. 

Ilse, who they haven’t spoken to in months, had to save him.

A rush of shame hits him, along with dread for Moritz’s sake. He gets checked out and goes straight to the hospital.

_Melchior: omw_

***

Moritz opens his eyes to see a bright light. His first thought is that he’s died and is getting his angel’s wings now. In his half-conscious state, he wonders if they’ll fit. Are wings one size fits all? Worse, what if he doesn’t like the way they look? Can he ever take them off?

Blinking and waking up his brain a little more, he can see that the bright light isn’t as warm as it is harsh. It hurts his eyes to looks at, and he moves his hands to try to block the light, only to notice they’re both bandaged. Wildly, Moritz wonders if that’s how wings are formed. Did they take something from his forearms in order to make them? Or perhaps wounds from Earth still need to heal in heaven?

But the harsh light is nothing like what heaven would be, more like the lighting of a doctor’s clinic. 

Or a hospital.

It hits him then that he’s not dead. That the bandages are to cover the slits he’s made in his wrists, not to form his wings, and that he’s wearing a hospital gown. There were never any wings. He was never about to become an angel. A sick feeling of bitter disappointment plays in his stomach.

And Moritz notices someone sitting next to him. Several someones. 

Ilse realizes he’s awake first. “Moritz!” 

Melchior perks up when he hears this. He stands, moving to the bedside and running a hand through Moritz’s hair. “How you feeling, Ritzy?”

Moritz can’t deny that the hand is comforting, but he shoves it away. “I was almost an angel,” He whispers, but they can hear. “I was going to be an angel and tell them stories about playing pirates in the snow and drinking hot chocolate. I would have had wings. I would have been happy.”

“And we would have been crushed,” Melchior responds shakily. Moritz may be imagining it, but it sounds like he’s been crying. “I’m so sorry I didn’t realize...” His voice breaks and he turns away, trying to hide the fact his shoulders are shaking. Moritz sits up, placing a bandaged hand of Melchior’s shoulder and trying to get words out.

A nurse approaches the bedside too, and Moritz turns to look at him. He hadn’t noticed the man in the corner. “Do you remember what happened?”

Moritz nods, squeezing his eyes shut. He remembers it all too clearly. Planned it for so long, and it ended like this.

“Where’s my father? Does he know?” He’d been angry, no doubt. Say that Moritz had almost thrown away the life he’d worked so hard to give him. He’d be angry about the running away, too. Moritz heartbeat quickened. What if his father insisted he come home as soon as he was off suicide watch? 

“He knows. He’s downstairs. Said that you should see your friends first thing.” 

Moritz tries to slow his breathing. The idea kept breaking in, regardless. What if things just went back to the way they were, the only difference two scars that weren’t there before? Next time, he resolves, he’ll steal his father’s shotgun. Finish the job. The thought is calming, though he knows it shouldn’t be. 

The nurse notices the panic on his face and gets the wrong idea. “I can call him up if you w-”

“Don’t,” Melchior interrupts, turning around with a more composed expression. “His dad’s not...let’s just say, he’s a runaway. And it’s not because of his mom.” Ilse lets out a small gasp and the nurse nods in understanding.

Ilse speaks up now, moving beside Melchior. “You really scared me, you know,” She tells him quietly. “Seeing you just lying there, bleeding…” 

“I wasn’t dying,” Moritz sighs, eyes slipping shut. “I was flying.” 

He sees his friends exchange a look through his eyelids. They don’t believe him. And why should they? They didn’t see inside his brain, couldn’t understand exactly how outright shitty his life was. Wouldn’t consider how much better heaven would be.

It’s the nurse who responds. He seems unsurprised. He’s probably dealt with hundreds of suicide patients before. “It can seem that way. But death is a permanent solution to a temporary problem. And imagine all the things you’d miss. The people who’d miss you.” He gestures to Melchior and Ilse. 

“No more tutoring sessions, just the two of us.” Melchior buts in, sitting on the bed and grabbing Moritz’s hand. “No more sitting by that one part of the lake you love.”

And maybe they’re right. They don’t understand, but they do have a point. If only those things were as good as heaven would be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was planning on updating on Monday, but it's all ready now, so have an early update. (Also, please notice that Melchior has Moritz in his phone as Ritz Cracker. I'm proud of that pun)

_The wind is loud against the side of Melchior’s house, and Moritz keeps flinching everytime it rattles the shutters. But he doesn’t run and hide. He’s seven, he’s supposed to be brave now._

_Besides, it’s hard to be afraid when Melchior is there. He can’t help feeling that Melchi will protect him no matter what. Nothing can hurt him if Melchi’s here._

_Their first day of first grade has just ended, and the two run through the wind to get to Melchior’s house. Moritz holds on tight to his older brother’s battered backpack, hiding behind his jacket sleeve. It’s an uncharacteristically breezy day for September._

_Melchior distracts him from feeling as if he might blow away by sticking his arms out and pretending to be an airplane. They fly all the way home and hole up in Melchi’s bedroom to peer over their first ever textbook, a book of short stories they’ll be reading this year._

_“How can you read that word?” Moritz asks, amazed when Melchior correctly pronounces ‘opposite.’ It has eight whole letters._

_Melchior shrugs as if it’s not the big deal that it is. “My mom reads with me a lot.”_

_Moritz wonders, then, what it must be like to have a parent like that. He loves Melchi’s mom. Sometimes he pretends she’s his mom too._

_There’ve always been differences between the two. Moritz is a scaredy cat, Melchior is brave. Moritz’s dad isn’t great, Melchior’s parents are. But on the whole, they’re pretty similar._

_As Melchior keeps reading, Moritz wonders if this is a difference he’s never noticed. Melchior is smart. They’ve always been opposites, (a word he now knows) so that must make Moritz the dumb one. He’s not sure if he likes this difference._

_After they’re done with that story, Moritz doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to go face his dad, but he doesn’t want to keep going. They end up lying on Melchi’s bed and thinking separate thoughts. Melchior has a book. Moritz just thinks._

_“Melchi?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“You’re my best friend.”_

_“Well, you’re mine too.”_

***

After a while, Moritz wants to take a nap and asks them to go. Ilse asks Melchior question after question as they walk. “Is his dad really abusive? I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah.” Melchior scowls, remembering. “He’s a real jackass, even to me, but especially to Moritz. When he told him he’d dropped out last night, he yelled and said he wasn’t his son. That’s when he ran away. I only know cause he texted me to ask to sleep over. He left this morning.”

“Wait, he dropped out?” Ilse asks, increasingly alarmed. “He told me, right before, that his dad had called to check him out of school. He was headed home. If I’d known...”

Melchior shakes his head. “The teachers hate him. He was falling behind. They considered holding him back, but ended up expelling him. Fucking Catholic schools, am I right?”

Ilse picks nervously at her shirt. “If I’d known that, I’d have tried harder to...he just said he was fine, you know? I didn’t really believe him, but-”

Melchior stops her. “It’s not your fault, Ilse. If anything, it’s mine. I knew he was in a bad place and I didn’t say anything. I never thought he’d do something like this.”

***

As soon as he’s back at school the next day, Hanschen confronts Melchior, along with pretty much all their friend group, and the girls too, from the school next door. “Well?” He asks, with more concern in his voice then Melchior could have imagined could come from Hanschen. “Is he ok?”

Melchior looks at the group of people there. Strangely enough, Wendla is nowhere to be seen. Normally she’d care more than anyone about her friends.

The ones who are sitting on the benches in front of the school include Georg, Otto, Thea, Martha, Ernst, Anna, and Hanschen himself, the one acting like he’s suddenly Melchior’s best friend.

“Why do you care?”

Hanschen looks taken aback as if he never realized that anything he did came across as rude.

“Moritz is our friend, too,” Ernst spoke up. He looked as if he was honestly losing sleep - which was impossible, considering he’d heard about it yesterday at earliest. “We’ve been worried about him.”

Melchior grunted and sat down beside them, suddenly too tired to continue this avoidance thing. “He tried to kill himself.”

Based on their responses, none of them expected that any more than Melchior had. He doesn’t really pay attention to who says what. They all blur together.

“Moritz? Kill himself?!”

“But he’s ok now, right? He’s not going to try again?”

“Just because he failed the exams-”

That last one rubs Melchior the wrong way. Maybe it was the lack of sleep last night, maybe it was the stress, maybe it was the shock, but he just exploded. “NONE OF YOU HAVE ANY IDEA!” He flew the his feet, shouting at them all rather than just whoever said it. “He had so much more going on than any of you - or, hell even I - knew about!”

Turning to storm away, he found himself face-to-face with Wendla, who looked surprised at his outburst. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Ask them.” If he were thinking, he might have realized that this is the first they’ve properly talked after their meeting in his barn. He might have turned it into a discussion. But Melchior’s blood is boiling and his head is filled with nothing but worry for his friend, so he walks away.

***

_Ritz Cracker: Hey_

_Melchi <3: Hey Ritzy! They let u hve ur phone back?_

_Ritz Cracker: Supervised, of course. I can pretty much only text_

_Ritz Cracker: Anyways, how was school?_

_Melchi <3: Good. Everyone misses u_

_Ritz Cracker: You’re coming to visit me tomorrow, right?_

_Melchi <3: of course I am!_

_Ritz Cracker: God, I dreamed we were first graders again. I miss that._

_Melchi <3: me too_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update!! I've had a lot of homework and writer's block. This one's pretty short, but I hope you enjoy regardless.

The bell’s still ringing when Melchior jumps to his feet, everything already packed. He has to get back to the hospital and visit Moritz. They’ve texted, of course, but it’s not the same. 

Halfway out the door, the teacher calls his name. “Just a minute, Mr. Gabor.” He turns back. The teacher just makes a motion for him to wait.

Once everyone’s out of the classroom, the teacher finally tells him what going on. “The headmaster needs to speak with you. You don’t have a bus to catch, right?”

Melchior shakes his head, the burning to get out the door and to that hospital room just more intense, but he can wait a little bit. 

The headmaster is not in a good mood when he enters. Melchior's pissed him off more times than he can count, but he can’t think of anything he’s done recently to make him this mad.

“Melchior Gabor.”

“That’s my name,” Melchior confirms, just to annoy him. The headmaster scowls and gestures for him to sit down. When he does, he notices another person in the seat beside him. 

It’s Moritz’s father. He’s red in the face and glaring at Melchior openly, his hands clutching a small notebook Melchior’s sure he’s seen be-

“Mr. Gabor, I believe you’re aware of what has happened to young Mr. Stiefel?” The headmaster interrupts his thoughts, startling him into looking back up.

Melchi shakes his head. “No, I wasn’t entirely sure. I’ve just been visiting him in the hospital every day.” 

Mr. Stiefel flies to his feet, his words a snarl. “You have corrupted my son! You influenced him with these writings of yours-” he slams the notebook on the headmaster’s desk, and Melchior can see the cover clearly now. _The Art of Sleeping With_. Melchior’s heart sinks as he realizes what it is. 

“Sit down, Mr. Stiefel,” The headmaster admonishes, standing up. Moritz’s dad sits down. He turns to Melchi now. “Mr. Stiefel found this among his son’s items. Do you know what it is?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “It’s an essay, explaining in detail how the act of … erm … intercourse is performed. He believes that this must have been a factor to his son’s mishap,” Melchior gives a snort at his phrasing. “and the school is inclined to agree. This sort of material is far too distressing for the mind of a fifteen-year-old boy.”

Melchior tries to hide how his leg bounces nervously. “Right. Why on earth might kids need to know about sex? None of us would ever have it, that’s for sure.”

The headmaster continues as if Melchi never spoke. “Considering you have a history of such things, and how close you and young Moritz Stiefel are, we have reason to believe you wrote it.”

“Even if I did, he could have just googled it. Pretty pointless, if you ask me.” Moritz, of course, couldn’t have googled it. His dad checked his web history and had a way to block any ‘inappropriate’ websites. That’s why he went to Melchior for information in the first place.

Again, Moritz’s dad jumped up. “Stop stalling, Gabor! We know you wrote it! You are never seeing my boy again!” 

Melchior stood right up to meet his challenge. “That’s if you even keep custody over him! Any sane judge wouldn’t let someone like you raise a child.”

“Enough!” They both look at the headmaster, who has a hand over his face. “I didn’t call you in here to scream at each other.”

“Sir, this boy is a bad influence on my son and has been since they were in elementary school. Surely you don’t need a confession to expel him.”

Melchior’s blood runs cold and all the flame’s gone. “Expel me?”

“You are facing expulsion if it’s determined you wrote the essay.” The headmaster explains calmly. “As I’ve said, you have a history of such things.” Ignoring Melchior’s protests, he continues. ”If you confess, we’ll allow you back if - and only if - you spend the rest of the school year at an alternative school. Your parents have been notified already.”

“But that’s not fair!” Melchior tries to protest, although the fight is gone from him. “I-”

The headmaster silences him by raising a hand. “If you would please both leave my office.”

Melchior’s numb as he stumbles down the road to the hospital. He doesn’t want to die so much as disappear. He knows he would normally lie and see how long he can not be caught, but it all seems so exhausting. It would just be so much easier to cooperate for once.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't already clear, the hayloft scene went over more obviously consensually in this verse, cuz, like, Melchior knows what consent _is._

Melchior’s been visiting Moritz almost every day. He tells him what they’re learning in school and updates him on all the gossip. Moritz finds it strangely comforting. 

He’s become more touchy recently, Moritz notices. The psychiatrist he has to see now says it’s probably because he feels the need to reassure himself that Moritz’s still there. He finds that strangely comforting too.

One day, about a week into Moritz’s hospitalization (in which his father has only visited twice, thankfully) Melchior storms in before collapsing on the chair next to where Moritz sits, doodling in a notebook. “Hey, Ritzy.” He feigns a smile. 

Moritz looks up from his book. “You okay?”

“Peachy.” He scowls. “Your dad’s trying to ruin my life.”

“What’d he do?”

“He found the journal.” 

Moritz gasps. God, he’d been an idiot to forget that! He’d had it on his nightstand when he left. “And?”

Melchior rubs his eyes. “You know, that sort of material isn’t appropriate for teenage boys. Surely it would be distressing enough to make one…”

“Try and kill himself?” Moritz fills in, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Melchior nods. His hair is in his face. Usually he takes such care to brush it.

“So what are they going to do?”

Melchi shrugs, leaning subconsciously into Moritz. “They want to send me to an alternative school.” He looks at Moritz to see if the other boy is getting it. “An alternative school out of state.”

Moritz pales and his heart stops. “That means I couldn’t see you. Like, ever.”

“I think that’s the idea. Your dad still has the ability to take me off of your approved visitors list, right?”

“Yeah.” Both boys just sit for a second, too upset about the fact they might be driven apart to speak. “But they might not. It’s not final yet.” Moritz nods, trying to reassure himself. “So, unless you fuck up on something huge, we should be alright.”

Melchior laughs to relieve the tension. “I’ll try. It’s hard to promise, though. I am still me.”

The rest of the visit passes smoothly, both keeping his mind on other things. 

***

The next day, Melchior is again interrupted before he can head out the door to the hospital, although this time it’s not by a teacher. By the bus stop shared with the girl’s school, someone grabs his hand.

“Melchi?” a feminine voice calls from behind him. The nickname sounds so weird coming from someone other than Moritz’s lips. “Can we talk?”

Melchior glances back and makes eye contact with none other than Wendla Bergmann. Instantly he remembers the last time they had a proper conversation, although maybe conversation isn’t the best word. There wasn’t much talking. “Yeah, what’s up?”

She pulls him into the commons and onto a bench. Her face is strained like it hurts to say whatever she’s saying. “You haven’t texted me back. Or called. Or talked to me for days. Do you normally sleep with girls and then forget them?”

He winces. “Sorry. I’ve just been so caught up with the whole Moritz situation. And my parents are fighting with the school so they don’t expel me, so that’s fun. It’s just been a stressful time. Sorry.” Again he replays everything that happened. Looking back, it hadn’t been good timing when Wendla found him in the barn. He’d been in a terrible state of mind. “Was I too … pressuring? I keep thinking I was and I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“No, no it was fine. I ... wanted it ... then.” Wendla takes a deep breath, rubbing Melchior’s knuckles with her thumb. He’d forgotten she was holding his hand. “I just want to talk about now. After.”

“After?”

“Like our relationship. Are we in one?” 

Melchior hadn’t thought of that. “Uh, I don’t know.” He watches her eyes but can’t seem to conjure up the attraction he’d felt for her before. What’s that about?

“For the record, I want to be,” Wendla tells him. 

“I … this is gonna sound real shitty, and I promise I was never in it just for the sex, but I don’t really.” Her face falls and Melchior winces. “Just because I don’t really have time for a capital-R Relationship. Plus, I’m probably gonna have to transfer schools for a year so we’d have to be long distance.”

She nods, dropping his hand. “Still friends though, right?”

“Of course.”

Out of the blue, like he always seems to be, Hanschen sits down next to Melchior. “Well, well, what are you two lovebirds up to?”

Melchior bristles. “We’re not lovebirds. Stop saying that.”

“Sure you’re not.”

Wendla narrows her eyes and grins evilly. “Hypocrite. Remember how your sister walked in on you and Ernst making out on top of the piano in the band room the other day? From the way she tells it, there was some shirt removal.”

Hanschen immediately flushes pink, his blond hair contrasting heavily with his face. Melchior bursts out in laughter. “No way, really? I didn’t know Ernst was gay.”

“According to him, neither did he until _Hansi_ over here seduced him by talking about milk or something.” 

“The milk was a metaphor,” Hanschen states crisply.

“Oh my god, did you turn milk into some sex thing? Gross! What on earth does he see in you?” Melchior laughs even harder.

Hanschen sputters indignantly. “No I did not, and I’ll have you know, Ernst appreciates me for my maturity.”

Wendla asks, “Does he have the wrong guy?” She and Melchior crack up all over again. 

“Sometimes I wonder that, too.” Ernst says with a grin from where he’s just appeared behind Wendla. As always, he speaks quietly but not entirely without confidence. 

“Wow, thanks.” Hanschen mutters sarcastically, but he can’t keep the warm smile off his face at the sight of Ernst, who can’t either, crossing to sit next to him and leaning on his shoulder. 

Melchior and Wendla meet each other’s eyes and grin. “Awww,” they say simultaneously.

Ernst blushes in his ears and neck. “I was just coming over to tell Wendla our bus is leaving,” he mutters.

Standing up and waving goodbye, the two leave Hanschen and Melchior alone. Melchior privately wonders what Moritz must be thinking about how late he is, but he puts it out of mind. Surely he won’t be missed for five minutes. “So, what’s the status with him? Are you dating now, or just making out on pianos?”

Hanschen mimics his tone. “So, what’s the status with her? Are you dating now, or just hanging out in barns after hours?”

“What the fuck. How much did Georg see?” Melchior shakes his head. “We _were_ hanging out, but we’ve decided that we don’t need a full-on relationship. We’re just friends. And you?”

Hanschen shrugs. “He doesn’t know if he’s ready to say he’s dating a guy. We’re taking it one step at a time.”

Melchior glances at his phone. God, it was later than he had thought. “Look, I have to go.” He stands up and is already a ways away when he hears Hanschen talk.

“Off to visit your boyfriend in the hospital, as always.” 

Melchior stops cold. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

Hanschen comes up behind him and throws an arm across his shoulder. “You like him, though.”

He shrugs off Hans’ arm. “Believe it or not, not every close relationship between two guys is gay.”

“I never said that. I said that you want this one to be.”

Do I? Melchior wonders, but he shrugs it off as easily as Hanschen’s arm. “He’s my best friend. He tried to kill himself. Of course I’m visiting him all the time.”

Hanschen throws his hands up in a faux-innocent gesture. “Alright, alright. Have fun.”

Cursing under his breath, Melchior practically runs away.

***

"Melchior? Can you come in here for a moment?" his father's voice calls when he gets home. 

"Yeah, sure, what's up?"

Entering the kitchen, Melchior sees his parents at the kitchen table, holding the essay. "We're taking the deal. You're going to confess and go to the alternative school."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new headcanon is that Melchior is a pun god and all the contacts in his phone are puns

They let him say goodbye to his friends one last time. A going away party of sorts. Melchior has always thought the idea of a going away party was kind of grim. Why celebrate someone leaving unless you didn’t like them very much? 

Looking over the people who’d come to say goodbye, Melchior wonders if they like him at all. 

Why would they? Within only a few months, he’s slept with Wendla and accidentally gotten her pregnant, (although the pregnancy part is supposed to be kept under wraps. Her abortion consultation is scheduled for next week) been completely unaware of his best friend being suicidal, and managed to get himself expelled. He’s yelled at them more than once. They don’t deserve that. He’s the one who should be yelled at.

Moritz is there. They released him from the hospital but a psychiatrist is still keeping tabs on him, and his wrists are still lightly bandaged. “I-“ Moritz starts, but he cuts himself off. After a second, he bursts forward to attack Melchior with a hug. “Don’t forget to text me, ok? Every day.” As Moritz burrows into his shoulder, Melchior thinks he feels his chest shudder. He swallows back the tears. 

“I won’t forget.” He doesn’t want to let go, but he’s leaving in five minutes and there’re still all these other people to say goodbye to, so he prys Moritz off of him. Moritz whimpers, he straight-up whimpers and Melchior thinks his heart might be breaking. 

Hanschen gives him a sort of one-armed hug. “I guess I’ll see you next year, than. Damn, who am I gonna make fun of?”

He tells everyone goodbye. Most of them just sort of wave. Ilse, however, marches right up to him for a quick embrace. “Don’t be a stranger when you get back.” Which is … ok, that’s a little weird, but it’s Ilse. What did he expect.

Wendla hugs him too. “Stay out of trouble,” she whispers in his ear.

He nods. When she lets go, he faces everyone. “Um, I don’t know if I’m supposed to give a speech or something, but I’m gonna miss you guys. See you at Spring Break.” He casts a finally glance at Moritz, whose eyes are streaked and red. He swallows back his own tears again.

Melchior leaves.

*** __

_Ritz Cracker: How was your first day?_

_Melchi <3: alright. We’re @ a way different part in math so im lil lost. How’s everything back home?_

_Ritz Cracker: Same old_

_Melchi <3: yeah but I miss the same old. Spill the tea! _

_Ritz Cracker: uh, Wendla and Ilse are maybe kinda sorta a thing now?? I’m not 100% clear on that._

_Melchi <3: ??!?!?!!!!?!? Tell me more_  
  
***

The alternative school is weird. Back home, everyone knew him. Here, his roommate forgets his name sometimes. It’s lonely.

It’s almost a tradition for everyone to gather in Melchior’s room once a week. Not because of him, but because of his roommate Reinhold. He’s one of the popular kids. They all gather and talk about their lives back home. Girlfriends, best friends, why they were sent here. Melchior doesn’t usually talk.

Once, though, they all tell him he has to say something or they’ll kick him out of the room for the night. “Fine,” he concedes. “What do you want to know?”

A lot of things, apparently. Does he have a girlfriend? Why did they expel him? He seems to them like a goody two shoes. 

He tells them the facts. He was sort-of dating a girl but they broke up before he left. He leaves out the pregnancy part.

“So you’re not dating anyone?” Rupert asks.

Melchior is talking before he even thinks. “I’ve got a boyfriend.”

This news goes over differently than it would back home, too. Back home, no one would even be surprised. He’s pretty sure Georg is the only straight person in their friend group. They’d just ask who.

Here it’s received with a mixture of shock and disgust. “What?!” 

“You’re gay?!”

“Of course Gabor’s a que-.”

“Excuse me?” Melchior interrupts, internally beating himself up. Why would he even say that? It’s not remotely true!

To his surprise, Rupert defends him. “Come on guys, stop that.” He turns to Melchior. “I’m sure we all want to hear about him, Gabor.”

“Um… his name is Moritz.” it’s just the first name that comes to his head. It doesn’t mean anything. “We’ve been best friends forever and we got together right before I left.” That didn’t mean anything either. “He tried to kill himself and I guess almost losing him just made me realize my feelings.”

Later that night he wonders if it really didn’t mean anything. He knows he misses Moritz so much it physically hurts. Does that mean Hanschen’s right? Does he have feelings for Moritz?

Finally he just pulls out his phone and texts Hanschen. It’s better than just worrying.  
__  
Milky-Whore: you ever wonder if what you’re feeling is like, normal?

_Hand Chin: what the actual fuck gabor it is three in the morning_

_Milky-Whore: were u asleep?_

_Hand Chin: irrelevant_

_Milky-Whore: I guess im just thinking_

_Milly-Whore: like would anyone in this situation feel this way or is it just me_

_Hand Chin: i swear to god if ur lying awake at night thinking bout how gay u r for ur best friend_

_Milky-Whore: … maybe?_

_Hand Chin: oh so ur admitting it now fabulous_

_Milky-Whore: I mean … I know im bi and so is he that’s not the problem_

_Milky-Whore: there’s just so many ways this could ruin our friendship and I don’t want to make like a hasty decision and what if I am just missing him platonically?_

_Hand Chin: well spring break doesn’t start for another month so you have that long to think about it_

_Milky-Whore: I miss him so much I can’t stand it. I keep turning to point something out to him and he’s not there and I die_

_Milky-Whore: and I keep having these fantasies_

_Hand Chin: imma stop u right there i think that’s a one hundred percent guarantee_

_Milky-Whore: nOT LIKE THAT_

_Milky-Whore: just seeing him again and just holding him and cuddling and being together again_

_Milky-Whore: I just told everyone a story about my boyfriend Moritz and I’m not sure why that’s the name that came to mind_

_Hand Chin: in my expert opinion that’s heckin gay_

_Hand Chin: but ernst says he likes u too_

_Milky-Whore: really???!_

***

Spring break can’t come fast enough. Moritz has been waiting for this day for two months. The day he can see his best friend again.

His father doesn’t know Moritz is planning on hanging out with Melchi. There’s a lot he doesn’t know. Things are better than before, at least. He thinks his dad seems guilty about it. Nowadays when they do homework together, his dad tries to be patient. 

The school didn’t want Moritz’s family to sue them, so they let Moritz come back. He’d missed it more than he realized. Ernst’s face when he walked into their geometry class was elated. Wendla captured him in a hug when she saw him at the bus stop. Martha gave him a card and a brand new notebook. He’d missed all of them so so much.

Moritz still keeps tabs on his father’s shotgun. It’s almost a soothing thing, like his favorite comfort food, to go down to the gun safe. All of that and still he looks at it sometimes. He can’t bring himself to touch it, though. 

The psychiatrist says that’s normal. She also says to stop going so often, at the very least. She says if he just goes less often eventually he’ll stop going at all. Moritz tries.

In Melchior’s absence, he becomes closer to Ilse. They used to be best friends when he was younger. Now they’re best friends again. He and Ernst hang out, too, and Ernst tells him about Hanschen and painting and cloud watching and how he misses being sure about things like religion.

But now it’s finally spring break, and Ilse’s hosting a party for Melchior’s return. Moritz can hardly wait as they set up. Everyone else has already seen him, but Moritz’s father hasn’t let him.

“Calm down, Mo,” Ilse tells him with a grin on her face. “Don’t have a seizure before he even gets here.”

He flips her off and she laughs. She and Ernst are the only ones who he’s told about his - very small, he might add - crush on Melchior. “I’m just excited, ok? I miss him.”

“We know.” Ernst laughs. “You won’t shut up about it.”

The doorbell rings. Moritz jumps and runs to open it.

It’s only Hanschen. “Hey there. You look excited.” 

Moritz blushes. Ernst is right behind him, smiling and pecking Hans’ cheek. “Hi, Hansi.” They head to the living room.

As Moritz turns to go back, a voice calls his name. “Moritz!” He spins back around.

Melchior is standing in the doorway where Hanschen was five seconds ago. His face breaks into the widest grin Moritz has ever seen.

He doesn’t think before running forward and almost knocking Melchior over. If the hug before he left was tight, this one must be strangling Melchior, but Moritz almost doesn’t even care. 

“I missed you so much,” he murmurs into Melchi’s shoulder. 

“Me too, but you’re kinda choking me.”

Moritz blushes and lets go a bit. “Kinky!” Hanschen calls from the room behind Moritz.

“Shut it, Rilow,” Melchior tells him, but with more affection than he used to have. He has mentioned they’ve sort of become friends again over text, but until now, Moritz hadn’t really believed it.

Moritz lets go. “I’m so glad you’re here, Melchi.”

He thinks he sees something in Melchior’s smile. “You too.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong.

“Alright, Melchior’s turn.” Thea says. She’s sitting with Anna’s head in her lap, playing with her hair, and her arm around Martha, tracing patterns into her shoulder. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

Everyone groans. Melchior’s never been one for dares and they’re running out of embarrassing questions. Finally, Ilse comes up with one. “Most cringeworthy middle school memory.”

Melchior pauses. At least it’s not as bad as the time Hanschen got drunk and threw up on a girl’s feet at their first high school dance. “Um, I got banned from the public library in seventh grade. This was in the heat of my anti-theist phase, of course. I moved all the Bibles to the fiction section.”

The room erupts in laughter. “Of fucking course,” Hanschen mutters. 

“I had to beg them to give me back my library card last year,” Melchior finishes.

Wendla says, “Moritz’s turn. Truth or dare?”

“Um. Dare, I guess.” Moritz decides warily from next to Melchior. 

Hanschen immediately interrupts. “I dare you to spend seven minutes in heaven with Melchior.”

Melchior’s heart stops. “Hans, stop it. We’re just friends.”

“It’s up to Moritz if he wants to take the dare.” Hanschen smirks like a cat. Melchior wants to smack him.

Moritz glances around, face turning red. “I guess it’s better than any other dare Hanschen might come up with. If Melchi’s comfortable with it, I mean.”

Melchior nods. He doesn’t trust his voice. Realistically, he knows nothing’s gonna happen. They’ve been alone together before. But it’s been so long, and back then he didn’t know about his feelings, or that Moritz might like him back. He can’t help hoping.

As they head to the closet, Hanschen pulls Melchior aside. “You had better kiss that boy or I will murder you with my own two hands.”

“If I haven’t murdered you already,” Melchior growls. “This isn’t what I meant when I asked you to help me with Moritz.”

Hans winks, just winks, the little shit. “You’ll thank me later.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

***  
The closet smells like medicine. Moritz tries to focus on that scent, trying to ground himself. It’s a small closet and he and Melchi are pressed chest to chest. Moritz can count his breaths.

“Ritzy?” 

Moritz opens his eyes. “Yeah?”

Melchior looks almost as nervous as he is. Why would he be nervous? He’s mister extrovert, the brave one. “Why is this so awkward? I mean, half an hour ago you were hugging the life out of me.”

Moritz shrugs. “I guess it’s just been a while. I haven’t seen you in person since January.” 

He doesn’t look like he agrees. He was searching for a different answer. Moritz watches him inhale, six inches from his face. 

“Hanschen….” Melchi starts, trailing off.

“Is a Neanderthal.”

Melchior laughs and nods, but he looks like he wants to say something else. “He said…I mean he told me…”

“What?” Moritz’s stomach churns. Had Ernst told Hans about his crush on Melchi? He’d told him not to tell anyone, but Ernst frequently argues that Hanschen isn’t just anyone; He’s his boyfriend. He can barely stand to hear the answer.

“He said you like me.” 

And Moritz just about dies. Melchior’s going to stop being his friend, he’s going to hate him. “He what?!” He can’t breathe. 

Melchior chews his lip. “So do you? Like me, I mean.”

“Melchi, I…” Moritz can’t think. He can’t breathe. “You’re making fun of me.” He can’t breathe.

“I swear I’m not, I-“

“Stop it!” Moritz practically screams. “I can’t- I can’t have this conversation!”

“If you would just listen to me-!”

“Um, guys?” Ernst’s muffled voice calls. “You alright in there?”

“How much longer?” Moritz asks, voice cracking. He pointedly ignores the question.

“Fifteen seconds,” Anna tells him. 

When the time is up and the closet’s unlocked, Moritz shoves past everyone to get to Ilse. “I have to go.”

She doesn’t ask why. He’s glad for it.

***

Moritz is gone by the time Melchior makes it through the crowd asking what happened. He curses himself over and over for going about it the wrong way. If he’d only lead with his own feelings…..

But it’s too late now. He’s gone when Melchior gets outside.

Hanschen doesn’t meet his eyes for the rest of the night.

***

Melchi - Melchi _or_ calls Moritz constantly the next morning. He pointedly doesn’t pick up.

_Melchi <3: Ritzy please_

__

__

_Melchi <3: I didn’t mean it like that_

__

__

_Melchi <3: just pick up I’ll explain_

Moritz turns his phone off.

After he got home last night, Moritz just cried and cried like he hadn’t in a long time. Melchior has been his crutch for years. Whenever he needs help, Melchior’s been there.

He can’t help thinking that he won’t be anymore. 

His father comes in. “Moritz, are you alright? It’s almost noon.”

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t look towards the door. The bumps in the wall form the shape of some animal. A kangaroo?

“Look at me.”

He doesn’t.

“Moritz.”

Holding his breath, Moritz rolls over. He catches sight of himself in the mirror. His eyes are red and he’s still wearing his clothes from yesterday. His father catches his breath.

“Are you…hungover?” 

He considers lying and saying yes, but that would lead to a host of other problems. “No.”

“Then why…..? Have you been crying?”

“Maybe. It doesn’t matter.” Moritz rolls back over. 

His father puts a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Of course it does. What happened?”

“Hanschen happened. He’s a dick.”

His father takes a sharp breath in at the curse but doesn’t say anything about it. “What’d Hanschen do?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

The hand moves from his shoulder. “Okay, then. I’ll be downstairs.” Moritz glances back to watch his father walk out. As he’s at the door, he pauses. “Was Melchior at the party?”

Moritz inhales sharply. “No.” His voice is higher than normal.

“Okay.” He leaves.

Moritz rolls back over.

***

Moritz isn’t responding to any of his messages. Wendla calls him and basically forces him to come to a movie with her and Ilse. 

“I promise you won’t be a third wheel,” she assured him, although that promise seems forgotten as soon as she and Ilse lay eyes on each other. They hold hands and cuddle throughout the movie, some rom-com Melchior’s not even really paying attention to.

__

__

_Melchi <3: moritz I fucked up_

__

__

_Melchi <3: I didn’t mean it to come out like that_

Nothing. He doesn’t want to admit his feelings over text, or he would have done it before break. There’s only a few more days left before he has to go back to school, and he doesn’t want to end on this note.

Wendla elbows him. “Put your phone away. We’re in a movie theater.”

“Why isn’t he responding?” Melchior groans, tears prickling behind his eyelids. “If he would just let me explain-“

“What even happened in that closet?” Ilse asks, leaning over. “All we heard was the yelling at the end.”

“I asked him if he liked me.” Melchior puts his face in his hands in shame. “I was trying to tell him I like him, but I fucked up. I fucked up so bad and now he’s gonna hate me forever.”

Wendla makes a noise of surprise. “You like Moritz? So that’s why you broke up with me.”

“Well, that might have been a factor.”

“Does Hanschen know you like him?” Melchior nods to Ilse’s question. Ilse shakes her head. “Ernst and I thought he was just trying to make fun of Moritz for his crush on you. He practically broke up with him, he was so mad.”

“Practically?” Wendla asks. “Did they not actually break up?”

“I believe Ernst’s exact words were, ‘Don’t even talk to me.’ And then he blocked his number.”

“Ouch.”

Melchior pulls out his phone again and sends off another text.

_Melchi <3: I swear it’s a misunderstanding pls call me _

Wendla clucks her tongue from over his shoulder. “Just tell him.”

He shakes his head. “Not over text. I can’t-“

The man in front of them twists around. “Excuse me, would you three please shut up? Some of us are trying to pay attention.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t think I’d let them be happy that easily did you? Lol, I sincerely apologize.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Milky boi and Handsi Boi get drunk

Melchior doesn’t know exactly how he ended up sitting on Hanschen’s sofa with a mostly empty wine bottle in his hand and his head fuzzy, although he’s certain he did at one point. 

He texted Hanschen, he remembers, after the movie. He told him Moritz wasn’t responding to his messages and Hans apologized, said Ernst wasn’t responding to his either.

“I’m so sorry,” a voice sobs from the other side of the couch. Melchior glances over, remembering Hanschen’s still here. His face is red from crying. “I ruined everything.”

Melchior silently hands him the bottle, which he chugs the last of.

From there, he must have agreed to hang out with Hans. That much was clear. How alcohol got involved he hadn’t the faintest clue, but he was grateful for that fact.

An idea occurs to him. “When was the las’ time I texted him?” Melchior asks Hanschen. “Prob’ly been a few hours.”

“You said the same thing five minu’es ago.” Hans gives a hiccupy laugh.

But Melchior is already grabbing his phone out of his pocket. 

_Melchi <3: Mioirrritz_

_Melchi <3: im so sorrry i lov ou _ 

_Melchi <3: i thin imm drunk rn _

_Melchi <3: oi fucked up realy badd Ritzt _ 

 _Melchi <3: i lov u mo i didn’t mean t o _ 

Hanschen grabs his phone. “You’re prob’ly annoying him. Think that’s enough.” He stares at the phone a moment before looking up at Melchior. “Can I text Ernst?”

Melchior waves his hand. “Sure.” 

***

Moritz wakes up to his phone going off. He remembers turning it on for his alarm, although that’s not his alarm sound. He picks it up.

_Melchi <3: Mioirrritz _

_Melchi <3: im so sorrry i lov ou _

_Melchi <3: i thin imm drunk rn _

_Melchi <3: oi fucked up realy badd Ritzt _

_Melchi <3: i lov u mo i didn’t mean t o _

Moritz’s breath froze. Did Melchior mean it, or was he just drunk texting? He scrolls back through the conversation and sees what must be a hundred texts from Melchior over the day, mostly apologizing and begging him to respond. 

He takes a deep breath and replies.

*** 

Melchior’s phone buzzes in Hanschen’s hands. He leaps for it. “Is it Mo’itz? It’s Mo’itz, isn’t it.”

Hanschen holds it away. “Let me see first! It might be Ernst.” 

Melchior grabs it, ignoring Hanschen’s protests. His heart leaps to see a message from Moritz. “It’s him!”

“Which him? My him or your him?”

Melchior opens the message. “Mine.”

_Ritz Cracker: Are you okay? Where are you?_

_Melchi <3: hanshcens hous _

_Ritz Cracker: What are you doing there at three in the morning?_

_Melchi <3: gettin drunk _

Hanschen collapses on his shoulder. “I can’t believe I …. why won’ he answer! I love him. I never go’ to tell him tha’.”

“I don’t know, man, maybe tell him in person?” 

Hanschen jumps up. “You’re right!” He searches around for his jacket. “I guess I’ll haffa walk, huh?” 

Melchior stares at him. “You’re in your pajamas, Hans.” He’s just in an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants.

“I’m sure he’ll understand.” He finds his jacket and shrugs it on, stuffing his feet in some tennis shoes.

He’s out the door when Melchior gets another text.

_Ritz Cracker: ???_

_Ritz Cracker: Why Hanschen’s house though?_

_Melchi <3: ifdk it jus happened _

_Melchi <3: im sorry mouritz I didnt mean to to hurt u _

_Ritz Cracker: I think I got the apology. Are you planning on staying there for the rest of the night?_

_Melchi <3: idjk hans just lerft for wrndts _

_Ritz Cracker: I’m coming to get you._

Melchior’s heart leaps.

_Melchi <3: thans i lov yu _

***

 The lights upstairs are dark when Moritz knocks on the Rilow’s door. He doesn’t want to wake anyone with the doorbell.

 Thea answers. “Here to collect your boyfriend?” 

He doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Where are your parents?”

 “They’re gone. Which means I’m the one who has the deal with drunk Melchior. He’s not sure where my brother went.”

 “He told me Ernst’s I think? It’s a little hard to read.”

 She nods. “Thanks. Can you take me to pick him up?”

 “Sure.”

“Is that Mo’itz?” Melchior’s voice calls. Thea steps aside so Moritz can see into the living room. “Mo’itz! You came!” He looks delighted.

 “He’s been ranting about you since he woke me up.” Thea tells him.

Moritz waves and walks over to him. “Hey, Melchi.”

Melchior bounces up and hugs him. “I love it when you call me tha’. It’s my favorite thing in the world.”

He wants to ask if Melchior meant it. If he really does love him. But not in this state. “I don’t think your parents would appreciate me taking you home like this. Come over to mine?”

Melchior nods enthusiastically. 

*** 

After dropping both the Rilows off back home, Moritz starts to wonder how to get Melchior to bed. He doesn’t know if he’ll be capable of being quiet.

Luckily, they get up the stairs easily enough. Moritz gently pushes him into his bed. He figures he can sleep on the floor.

But Melchior grabs his arm. “Don’t go.” His thumb runs over the scar on Moritz’s wrist and Moritz shivers. 

“I’ll be right here, Melchi. Right on the floor next to you.”

Melchior starts crying and Moritz doesn’t know what to do. He hasn’t seen him cry since they were seven. “I’m the wors’ friend. Your dad’s right, this is my faul’.” For a moment Moritz doesn’t understand what he’s referring to until his thumb traces the scar again.

 “Shh.” He cards a hand through Melchior’s hair. “Of course it’s not your fault. It was a lot of things. I’m better now, you know that.”

 “But I should ‘ave known, I should ‘ave been here, but I was gone just when you needed me and then I came back and I just hur’ you more and-“

“Deep breaths, ok? You didn’t do anything wrong.” Moritz pauses. “I mean, you could have done some things better, but still.”

Melchior relaxes and stops crying, although he still lets out the occasional sniffle. Moritz is oddly reminded of a similar scene not that long ago. Of himself crying on a hospital bed and Melchi unsure of what to do.

 Melchi pulls on his arm again, catching him off balance and pitching him head first into the bed.

“You jerk. Fine.” Moritz shifts so he’s laying next to him and pulls the blanket over them. “Happy?”

He nods and burrows his face into Moritz’s neck. Moritz tries to ignore the flutter in his chest. “I love you, Ritzy. I need to trea’ you better.”

“You’re drunk.” Moritz hates the way his voice cracks.

“Maybe I am. Still true, though.”

Moritz hesitates before kissing his forehead. Chances are he won’t even remember this. “Good night, Melchi.”

He doesn’t get a response. Before long, he hears snoring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anyone wants exactly what happened between Hans and Ernst as a bonus chapter. I have it written but I’m not sure if anyone wants to see it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after/epilogue

Melchior isn’t sure exactly where he is when he wakes up. He remembers going over to Hanschen’s house, and has vague memories of wine and texting Moritz.

Moritz! He’s at Moritz’s house! He sits up so fast he almost gets whiplash, but his friend isn’t anywhere to be found. And this must be Moritz’s bed he’s asleep in.

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket and realizes he’s still dressed. 

_Hand Chin: u good bro? u were pretty out of it last night_

_Milky-Whore: I think I’m at Moritz’s house_

  _Hand Chin: damn that texting scheme really worked out for u_

  _Milky-Whore: ???_

  _Milky-Whore: I have no clue what happened last night how did I get here_

_Hand Chin: lol check ur texts with moritz_

Melchior pulls up his text history with Moritz. He reads the last message he sent.

 _Melchi <3: thans i lov yu _ 

_Oh._

He scrolls up and reads the entire conversation, heart sinking further and further.

By the time Moritz enters, he’s read everything he didn’t remember.

“Hey, Melchi. Looks like you’re awake.”

“Looks like I am.” He glances around for no reason other than to stall. “Ritzy, I-”

Moritz holds up a hand. “I’m going to make this fast. You have to hide in here until Dad leaves for work, and then I’ll drive you home. I don’t really want to talk about it.”

 “I wasn’t just saying it because I was drunk.” Melchior blurts out before Moritz can leave again. “I really do love you. I just didn’t have the balls to say it.”

Moritz lets out a breath through his nose. He doesn’t reply for so long that Melchior wonders if he will at all. “You mean it?” 

“Of course I do! Ritzy, I don’t want to go back to school without making up. You don’t have to say anything, or do anything, but I want you to know I love you. I don’t care if you love me too or not, I just don’t want to fight with my best friend forever.”

He sits next to him. “Oh. Okay.”

“That’s all you’re gonna say?”

Moritz shakes his head. “I just…you _love_ me?”

Melchior nods eagerly. “Of course I do. For the longest time, I just never realized. And when I did realize, I couldn’t say it.” He pauses. “Please don’t hate me for it.”

The look on his friend’s face is unreadable. Finally, he turns to Melchior and lets out a deep breath. He brushes a stray hair out of Melchior’s face. “In that case,” he whispers, gaze flickering to his lips. “Can I kiss you?”

Melchior’s heart pounds loudly as he nods again. Moritz leans forward and their lips meet. 

It feels like a finale and an opening number. A question and an answer. The end of one story and the lead into the sequel. Something beyond metaphor. Maybe Melchior’s thoughts should just shut up and enjoy this instead of thinking of a poetic way to conceptualize it.

Moritz pulls away. “I’ve never kissed anyone,” he admits. The nervous way he chews his lip makes Melchior laugh. 

“You’re doing it right, don’t worry, Ritzy.”

“I love you too.”

Melchior’s heart leaps and he pulls Moritz back to kiss him again. God, how has he gone years without this? He never wants this to end.

A pounding comes from the door. “Can I come in?” Moritz's father’s voice booms.

Moritz freezes and sits up again. “Just a second, I’m getting dressed.” He clamors off the bed and shoves him into his closet.

Melchior’s blood is rushing too loudly to hear the voices on the other side of the closet door. Moritz just _kissed_ him. He’s half sure he must be dreaming.

Moritz drops him off at his house again with a kiss. Melchior wants to go on kissing him forever, like a starved man after his fast is over. But eventually they have to stop.

 “Can I ask you a question?” Moritz whispers. “What does this make us?”

Melchior shrugs shyly. He doesn’t want to admit how much thought he’s given it. “I mean, I was hoping you could be my boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend. Boyfriends,” Moritz tests out the words. “Yeah, I like that.”

***

“Are you okay, Moritz?” his father asks. He guiltily realizes he hasn’t been paying attention to anything his father’s said all of breakfast.

“I’m fine.”

 The first day of summer break. He can finally see his boyfriend - god, they’re _boyfriends_ \- again. He’s arriving around noon.

 His father looks his son over. “Melchior’s getting home today.”

 “Is he?” Moritz hates how his voice cracks.

 His father takes another bite of his cereal. “But you knew that. I know you’ve been texting him.” Moritz freezes.

 “Dad, it’s not-“

“Unless someone else is in your phone as Melchi Gaybor? With a heart?” He puts down his spoon and looks at Moritz carefully. “Are you two together?”

Moritz screws his eyes shut and nods. _This can’t be happening. Not like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way._

“Alright then.”

He opens his eyes, shocked. “You don’t care? I thought-”

“Maybe I judged him a little harshly.” He breathes out carefully. “We need to talk about this, of course. Not just just the liking boys bit. The rules have got to change. No more sleepovers, of course. But if he makes you happy,” he says. “I’m not going to keep you apart. I’ve done enough in the past year to hurt you.”

Moritz hugs him tightly. “Thank you.”

*** 

“I’ll take vanilla,” Hanschen orders last before joining the group at the three tables they’ve commandeered to fit them all. “So, what’s everyone planning for summer vacation?”

“One second.” Moritz interrupts. “I have big news to share.”

“What news?” Melchior asks. He racks his brain, trying to remember if they talked about this.

Moritz grins, swinging their joined hands onto the table. “I kinda just came out to my dad this morning.” Melchior’s jaw drops.

“Moritz! That’s great! What’d he say?” Wendla asks. 

“Well, apparently he looked through my phone and noticed my contact name for Melchi was ‘Melchi Gaybor.’” Moritz explains. “And he said we needed to talk about it, but he’s not going to stop us from seeing each other.” 

Melchior laughs in surprise, throwing his arms around Moritz and kissing him. “I can’t believe it!”

“PDA, come on!” Georg complains.

Everyone congratulates Moritz. Melchior can’t stop staring at this beautiful boy who somehow liked him back. Who’d just come out to his father for him. 

Ilse puts her hand up like she’s in school. She puts it down once she realizes. “Back to Hanschen’s question, though, Wendla and I are going to drive down to Six Flags, now that we both have our licenses. Anyone wanna come with?”

Hanschen says, “Ernie and I can probably come, Ilse.”

Ernst adopts a grin. “My parents might not like me going somewhere with girls.” The entire group bursts out laughing. Little do his parents know that the girls are the least of their worries.

“Well, tell them it’s just with your horny boyfriend,” Melchior says. “No biggie.”

“I’ll tell them it’s with my best friend, who happens to be a very good and faithful Christian boy,” Ernst jokes.

Moritz looks at Melchior questioningly. Melchior shrugs. “I bet my mom can convince my dad to let me go,” Melchior tells them.

“We’ll have to see about my dad.” Moritz shrugs. “Either way, this summer's gonna be great.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around for this whole fic! This is probably the first chaptered fic I’ve ever done that I’m actually happy with. Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments! (Also the bonus chapter is out now. It’s on the same series)

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: imhungryandaproblem


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